


Pictures and Promises

by Yuni30



Series: Nymph Hugs [16]
Category: Ni No Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch (Video Game)
Genre: Big brother Swaine, Developing Friendships, Friendship, Gen, Last Man Standing, Near Death Experiences, Pictures, Promises, Reminders, Responsibility, Team as Family, Trust, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 09:32:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuni30/pseuds/Yuni30
Summary: They say a picture's worth a thousand words. What they don't say is the promises those words hold.(This work can also be found as a drabble chapter for "Nymph Hugs" over on Fanfiction.net along with its sibling works.)





	Pictures and Promises

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Like A Brother](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/386213) by Wherever Girl. 



> Back again with another drabble! This one has a couple of sources, one of them being a review left by [moonbird](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1576308/) on my one-shot Closure, or better put chapter 14 of the fic over on Fanfiction.net. The other is an idea I proposed to [Wherever Girl](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2005234/Wherever-Girl) a couple of weeks back.
> 
> In any case, thank you all for your support. Thank you Snug on AO3! Just… thanks… To all of you reading this in the back who haven't said a word, thank you. (You'd not be reading this if you didn't like _something_ about this mess- gah! I'm tearing up just writing this.)
> 
> Anyway, on with the show!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is chapter sixteen… It should be clear by now, but this is clearly a fan-created work! I own nothing but my ability to write this and the laptop I'm writing this on…  
> 

They were on the way to Hamelin at last. It already had been a day since they departed. While the kids- and the fairy- ran around excitedly exploring the ship, their newest comrade laid lazily in a hammock of the crew's sleeping quarters admiring a necklace he found on the deck of the ship.

It was a locket, but not like the kind Oliver used. He wondered if he should open it to find its owner… was it one of the deck hands perhaps? It didn't seem like it. It was too polished, too new to the sea. The salty air would have tarnished it, dulled it. He quickly pocketed it in his tattered old coat when he heard footsteps approaching

"Swaine, have you seen my locket," the ever-suspicious familiar tamer questioned, walking down the stairs to the barracks. When he didn't answer from his place in the hammock, she stomped over to him. "Did you steal it?"

"Steal what," he looked up at her, confused by her sudden outburst. "You know I can do more than just steal, right?"

"So? How else would you end up with it," she retorted, crossing her arms.

"I don't even know what 'it' is, Esther," he shot back irritably, feigning ignorance. He didn't care much for her tone.

"I'm talking about my locket, Swaine." She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Where is it?"

"Oh, this old thing?" He tossed her the locket he had been admiring. "For your information, I _found_ it. I couldn't even sell it for a good amount if I wanted to." He frowned criticizingly. "What would I gain from stealing a worthless trinket?"

She caught it and shot him an insulted scowl. "It's not worthless! It's special! It has a picture of my parents and me to remind me of them. It makes me feel like I have a purpose for being here- so they can rest easy." She inspected the locket carefully. She opened it and heaved a sigh of relief. The image was still there.

The thief smirked as he caught a glimpse of the picture. "You should take better care of your treasure," he remarked slyly.

She looked up and glared at the man in the hammock. "It's my locket! If I lose it, then it's my fault," she snapped, pointing at him irritably.

His eyes narrowed in response. So much for gratitude. "Well, I'm sorry, _your highness_. I'll leave it to get lost next time if that's the tone you're going to take." With an annoyed huff, he put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

Esther looked down again, admiring the kind faces of her parents staring back at her. The thief's snarky remark reminded her to think about how her father would react to her attitude. She bowed her head and sighed, looking at the relaxed adult in the hammock. She approached him slowly. "I'm sorry. I guess I overreacted…" She looked back down at the locket then back at him. He had opened one eye to acknowledge her.

"It's just that- you're a thief and- well… This locket is really important to me." She looked back down at it, smiling at the memento of her parents. "It reminds me of home," she softly admitted. "If anything happened to it..." She didn't need to say.

"I get it…," the thief replied, his full attention once again diverted to her. "Anything to remind you of home, right?" He smirked, looking at the hammock above him. "Leaving home can be tough- trust me, I know." He took the gun out from his belt and admired it. It was purely Hamelin in style. Aside from the moniker he took up, it was the only thing he had that reminded him of his roots. "That's why you should take care of it," he reminded her as he tilted his head towards the young familiar tamer.

She nodded and closed the locket, putting it around her neck. She sighed and turned away from the thief. "Whatever you say, Swaine." While his advice made sense, she still couldn't find it in her to believe him. His profession was too shady. "I still don't know if we can trust you…"

With that, the thief turned back to look at his preferred weapon of choice. "Truthfully, I wouldn't trust me either…," he muttered as she turned to leave, recalling everything he had done until meeting the three of them. He had become quite the professional con-man. He had stolen, lied, cheated, and even sold people out just to survive- much of that prior to his restraint being taken from him. After that, it was like he went mad- like he had lost control.

He was envious of her for having something like that to hold onto. It was one of the reasons why he wanted to keep the picture of Marcassin he had taken from their possession. It reminded him of home, of where he needed to be. He had slipped into a thoughtless mess bombarded by so many distractions, giving in to so many tempting thoughts. When he heard they were going to Hamelin, something that had long since ceased to function flared to life: a sense of purpose, a goal he could focus on- his sense of responsibility for once overriding the lack of restraint in his heart.

That picture… when he saw it everything became clear. It anchored him to reality. In all the thoughtlessness it was the one thing, for that brief moment in time, that made sense.

He had been so relieved to finally think straight, yet so frightened. He was afraid that moment of clarity was temporary. If he fell back into the madness, he wanted to at least have something to cling to. To his joy, his ability to think his actions through, to reason, to be able to attempt to strike a deal with the group, to be able to connect consequences with whatever he would say or do was liberating. He liked doing as he pleased, but he still wanted to think about what he was doing in the first place.

It was only when he realized the permanence of his newfound sense of restraint that he parted with the picture. It was only when he had convinced them that he knew where Marcassin was, that he could get them to Hamelin that he gave it up. He was happy to be able to even do that.

That didn't change his past, though. It didn't change everything he had done, or who he had been before he left home. Who would ever trust a thief? Who would ever be proud of a magicless prince? This journey he had begun… he had a feeling he'd find the answer to his questions one way or another on it.

He felt the ship come to a halt and his curiosity stirred. He put the gun away and swung out of the hammock, heading for the deck. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized they had stopped off on the shipwrecked lined shores of the southern Summerlands.

He walked up to the others, standing next to the plank they were about to venture down. "What's going on…," he groaned at the unexpected detour.

"Look who's up and at 'em," the loudmouthed fairy announced, jumping.

"So you've finally decided to join us? Gees, you're so lazy," Esther chastised, glaring at him from the side.

"I'm only lazy because you lot seem to be doing fine without me," he returned, crossing his arms. "If we were attacked by a couple of sea monsters, I'd quickly lend a hand."

She snorted, turning to face Oliver, not before muttering, "Sure you would," under her breath.

"Cut it out, you two," the young wizard warned, looking between them. "We've got a bounty to defeat!"

Swaine untangled his arms and tilted his head curiously at Oliver. "A bounty, huh? Something causing trouble?"

"If you were up here, you'd know about it," Esther complained, taking a turn to cross her arms. It earned an irritated glare from the man next to her.

"Would you both stop fighting?! You're really getting on my wick," the fairy ordered the two, tired of hearing them bicker.

Oliver nodded at the thief, ignoring the squabble. "We've got to fight that thing," he answered, pointing at the giant column-like creature standing in the way of an opening. He excitedly smiled at the others. "Then we can explore," he cheered. "I wonder if there's buried treasure," he wondered enthusiastically.

"There could be," Swaine answered, shrugging with a smirk. The idea of treasure, preferably the useful kind, sounded good to him. Considering where they were, there was a good chance that that was the case.

"Or maybe some untouched ruins. I think there's a place called the Vault of Tears here," Esther recalled, placing a hand on her chin. "Something tells me we should wait until later, though…," she warned, suddenly unsure about the whole idea.

"For once, I agree," the thief interjected, frowning. They shouldn't just go traipsing off into old decrepit ruins when they didn't need to. "We have places to be, remember?"

The redhead nodded at them both. "So, let's get the bounty and explore the rest." He smiled excitedly at the others again. "That shouldn't hurt, right?"

~*~*~

The fight drug on. The creature was nigh impenetrable. They kept chipping away at it and in return, it did the same. In some instances, one blow nearly knocked two of them out. They had just barely survived. In instances like that, Oliver and Esther's healing magic often did their little group good.

By the time they had beaten it each of them was exhausted. They all sat and caught their breath, circled around the entrance. Even the fairy took a moment to lie back and rest in the sand. After a moment, Oliver fished out a few iced coffees, food and healing potions. "Anyone hungry," he offered.

They all took up what they each needed the most- though it was obvious the fight had built up an appetite in all of them. After they finished eating and drinking their fill, the wizard got up and brushed himself off. "You guys ready to go exploring," he encouraged excitedly.

"You sure don't run out of energy, do you," Swaine noticed, smirking. It was something to be admired, this kid's sense of adventure. It allowed him to ignore Esther's suspicious glance.

Oliver laughed before turning to walk through the opening naturally formed by the land mass, causing the others to scramble to their feet.

"Oi! Ollie-boy! Where ya going," the fairy called, realizing the group was leaving him behind.

They proceeded to explore the area. It reminded the young wizard of the rolling hills just outside of Ding Dong Dell. Everything except the creatures that was.

The four had accidentally stumbled across a band of turban myths. For a moment the creatures stared curiously at the three humans and a fairy.

They turned hostile the moment the group began to walk around them. They sent out a volley of fire attacks- a wall, waves, and even a spire of fire singed the four. Swaine found himself narrowly avoiding the flames, barely keeping himself from getting too badly burned.

The group attempted various attacks out of self-defense. They called on their familiars to protect them. They had taken down one by chance, but that constantly left them open to being attacked by their flames and staffs. It was amazing how hard the small creatures were on them.

"I can't go on… it's just… too _hot_ ," Esther moaned, almost passing out. She shook her head and attempted to heal herself. The two that were left took the opportunity to fling another volley of fire at her, effectively knocking her out.

"Esther," both Swaine and Oliver shouted. They had immediately focused on the fallen girl. The two of them glanced at each other and exchanged a nod, silently deciding to protect her from further harm.

"Are ya going to be able to get 'em, mun," the fairy shouted from the sidelines. "Tiny tots shouldn't be this tough, or I ent Lord High Lord of the Fairies," Drippy taunted, jumping in and throwing a couple of healing orbs at the two.

The thief rolled his eyes as he picked up the orb, instantly feeling a bit of relief from all of the burns. The fairy was helpful but he just wouldn't shut up. He sent out Vemahl, the dumbelemur to put up a fight.

Oliver had run out of magic healing them, so it was up to him and Bitworl, the mighty mite, to fight on his behalf.

The two managed to take one down but not before a wayward spire hit the young wizard. Already worn out, he laid on the ground, quickly losing consciousness. "Ollie-boy- mmph," was the last thing he heard as the fairy was knocked out by the final turban bound enemy.

It was just that turban myth and Swaine. That deceptively adorable fire spewing bandit and the horribly underprepared, but underestimated thief. He was their last hope. Their last remaining chance. He had to save them. He couldn't afford to run, he couldn't afford to abandon these three. They were his ticket back to Hamelin. Even so, even if he could convince Sindbah to leave without them, he just couldn't live with himself if he let them down. They had saved him from madness. They had accepted him into their group. He owed them that much. Even if they had the fairy, the other two were still just kids. They still had a lot to live for.

With this determination, he found his stamina replenished as he stared down the tiny turban fire mage. He felt the adrenaline rush, the familiar instinct to protect his own screaming at him. He called Vemahl to action. With a shout, he had the beast unleash a volley of ferocious swipes on the creature.

He timed it just right- the fire-based attack- and had the lemur avoid the flames. He quickly fished out a healing potion from Oliver's bag, popping the bottle into his mouth as he narrowly avoided the flames of another attack. He kept repeating this process until the final turban myth fell.

He collapsed on the ground, the lemur rushing up to comfort him in their victory. "Good job, Vemahl…," he breathed, stroking the top of the creature's head. He smiled for a moment, thankful to have survived.

Then a thought occurred to him- they still needed medical attention. They were a good distance away from the boat. Maybe if he went and got help…? He shook his head, realizing it was better to stay with them rather than leave them all alone. He called Vemahl back and began to consider his options. He looked at the two kids and seriously began to wonder if he could support their combined body weight and carry them all the way back. It was times like this when he really wished he still had Gunthur to do some of the heavy lifting.

He pulled out his gun again and looked at it, wondering if there was something he could use it for. The area was mostly grass, right? He looked at them and smirked. It seemed to be the only other option. He picked up Oliver and managed to haphazardly carry him, piggyback style. He picked up the fairy and draped him over his shoulder, Oliver's shoulder acting as a sort of barrier to keep the rotund Drippy from falling off. Last, he shot the grappling hook feature of his gun at Esther's top collar.

He trudged to what looked like an enclave up ahead. There, he reasoned, he'd find shelter to treat their wounds. Perhaps he'd even find some natural remedy to treat burns. He felt his body try to collapse under the weight of his companions and the exhaustion from saving the group. He wouldn't let it- his determination to prove himself useful, to repay them for their generosity was too strong.

He never counted himself entirely fortunate, not since he left home. Joining them must have improved that because he had stumbled across a community of forest dwellers. "Help," he pleaded, releasing his grip on the gun. He stumbled forward, almost falling on his stomach, just barely catching himself. He carefully laid Oliver down and placed Drippy next to him. Again, he found himself sitting out of sheer exhaustion.

The forest dwellers approached him and his party. He looked up at the simply dressed people, a silent campaign for aid. When they tried to treat him first, he brushed them aside. "No, take care of them first. They need it more," he instructed exasperatedly, looking at the others.

The tribe exchanged glances and began to treat the others, applying burn remedies and bandages. When they were through, the chief of the dwellers approached Swaine with a straight face.

The thief looked up from his place on the ground, beaten and worn, his arm resting on a bent knee. Despite his exhaustion, his concern was evident. "Well," he asked impatiently, eager to hear the outcome.

"Damages… not too bad. Friends healing," he reported. He raised an eyebrow at the lanky man who had saved them. "Healing, you need," he asked him, noticing the burns through the singed holes of his coat and shirt.

Swaine shook his head and looked up at the chief. He smiled gratefully, leaning against the raised section of land. "I'll be fine…," he responded, nodding up at the leader. "Thank you."

The chief nodded, accepting his gratitude. He let him be and the tribe returned to their daily routines.

The thief felt himself close his eyes for a moment. He was so tired. The last thing he thought about was his friends and eventuality of seeing his brother. " _Marcassin_ ," he whispered, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

~*~*~

When he awoke, the others were still sound asleep. They didn't look like they had budged a bit since he passed out. He figured that was to be expected. They had just gone through one hell of an ordeal.

It wouldn't be long, now. He was finally returning home- even if the place was seemingly in shambles. It was a comforting but terrifying thought. With this in mind, he got up and took the picture from Oliver's bag.

He leaned against a tree of the forest dwelling, admiring the picture of Marcassin. He carefully stroked the side of his younger brother's cheek, smiling. "I guess I'm forever fated to be the older brother, even if you're not here, aren't I, Marcassin," he asked the image before looking at his fellow companions he had just saved.

His eyes widened when he saw the desert girl stir, slowly sitting up and rubbing her sore forehead. "Hng…," she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut before opening them. She slowly looked around. "Where- where are we…," she wondered when she realized they were no longer in the grassy plains of Shipwreck Shore.

He smirked. "So, you've finally decided to join me? How lazy can you be, Esther," he shot back at her. His smirk turned into a cheeky grin.

"Swaine…? What happened-," she stopped short, wincing a little, earning a more concerned look from the thief than he'd like to admit.

"To put it simply: you lot got torched. I just barely managed to get us here, as it is," he informed, approaching her, the picture still in hand.

She looked up at Swaine in shock, blinking as she turned her head away from him. "Y-you- You saved us? _You_ ," she stammered, looking back at him with her mouth agape.

"I keep telling you, Esther. I know how to do more than just _steal_ ," he snarled, crossing his arms. He tapped his foot and shook his head. She never was going to get over that was she? He saw her focus on the picture.

"I thought you gave that back to Oliver," she said, pointing at the picture. "Why do you have it?"

His eyes drifted down to the picture he held and he raised it to look at it again. "I made a promise once. Let's just say this picture reminds me of it," he divulged, half smirking at the image of the sage.

Esther looked back to the rest of the enclave pensively. She took out her locket and looked at it, running a hand across the silver metal. "A promise, huh?" She recalled what she had told him about its contents, why she joined Oliver on that journey. She wanted her family to rest easy, to not live in fear of the Dark Djinn. "What was the promise…," she curiously prodded, hesitantly looking up at Swaine.

"It's… It's personal. It's nothing of your concern, alright," he avoided. He didn't want to make things more complicated than they were already. "It's the kind that I plan to see through to the end. That's all you need to know."

She didn't try to pry any more than that. His tone indicated he wouldn't budge. For now, that really was all she needed to know about it. She nodded and smiled up at him. "Well, if it's that important to you, then you should keep the picture."

Swaine raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "It was really important that you get it back earlier. Why give it to me?"

She giggled and continued to smile at the thief. "Because you're coming with us, right? We'll still be able to see it when we need to." She looked down. Suddenly her smile was apologetic in nature. "Besides, I was really rude to you before… Thank you for finding my locket."

He nodded, accepting her apology disguised as gratitude. "You're welcome, Esther," he breathed as he pocketed the picture. "And thank you."

He grinned when Oliver and Drippy started to stir. They both seemed to wake up at the same time, both with the same amount of confusion the bard had. "Easy, you two. That battle was intense," Swaine eased, extending a cautionary arm.

"How did we…," the wizard began. He remembered the last person standing was the thief. "Swaine...? Did you bring us here all by yourself?"

"Yeah. You're welcome, by the way. You're not light," he moaned irritably, rubbing his side out of slightly suggested delayed pain.

"Bunting, you think ya got enough magic in you to give everyone a quick refresher," the fairy yawned and stretched, seemingly the only one fit enough to immediately get up.

Oliver nodded, grinning as he looked at everyone else. "I should have plenty now that I've rested!" He took out his wand and cast his healing spells on all of them, healing what was left of their wounds. As a result, the two kids eagerly leaped to their feet, ready and raring to go.

The fairy skipped to the exit. "Let's get a move on, Ollie-boy," Drippy called.

"Before you do all that, don't you owe these kind forest dwellers some gratitude? They _did_ help heal your wounds, you know," Swaine admitted, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. He took a side glance at Oliver who was halfway towards Drippy already.

"Huh," the young wizard grunted as he turned towards the man. He looked behind the thief and noticed the people in simple clothes and tribal paint. He smiled and turned to Esther who shared a nod with him. The group approached the tribe chief, the only one wearing more face paint than the rest. Oliver bowed and Esther nodded gratefully. "Thank you, sir."

The chief nodded. "Heal well. Safe journeys," he answered, glad to see their spirits returned and they recovered quickly and well. Before they left, the chief patted Swaine on the shoulder. "Keep safe," he advised the thief.

It held two meanings to the rogue: keep himself safe as well as the others. Once again, the responsibility of the older brother weighed on his shoulders. He owed them that much.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the end. More non-romantic Swaine and Esther interaction! Yay!
> 
> Why do I keep writing Swaine all protective…? I'm noticing a pattern here. I hope I'm not screwing up his character. Oh well. I just hope you guys liked it.
> 
> So yeah. The suggestion I made to [Wherever Girl](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2005234/Wherever-Girl) involved the rare chance Swaine's the last one standing. (Psst! Wherever Girl! If you want to do that idea still, I don't mind! You'd probably do it better than me!)
> 
> Also, I wondered when he took the picture back from Oliver. He just pulls it out like he had it on him the whole time to show the Emperor later on. I thought it would be interesting to connect the events a little.
> 
> Do review! Thoughts, critiques, and suggestions are welcome!


End file.
